Misadventures of a Wayward Soul
by NerdGirl95
Summary: "But perhaps even death would have been preferable to this fiery, relentless pain as your body is ripped from the inside out and dissolved into nothingness, until all that remains is the tiny fragment that was the final piece of your soul." Even a fragmented soul can plot, plan, feel pain and rage and joy and cause havoc in a society thought to be safe. Written for Quidditch League


**Written for the Quidditch League Round 7: Horcruxes (Keeper, write about the fragment of Voldemort's soul that was resurrected in GOF)**

**Misadventures of a Wayward Soul**

Pain. That's all you are aware of as the lethal spell raced away from its intended victim and filled you with its power instead. Unfathomable, unendurable pain. You will not die, you have gone too far, taken too many precautions to die. But perhaps even death would have been preferable to this fiery, relentless pain as your body is ripped from the inside out and dissolved into nothingness, until all that remains is the tiny fragment that was the final piece of your soul.

With a final scream you finally break free of the shrapnel that you once called your body, and quickly flee the house in search of redemption. You watch as more and more people arrived on the scene – first Sirius and Hagrid to deal with that miserable brat of a child – and then the muggles came. Hundreds of them, some still in their Halloween costumes, all swarming around, trying to determine the cause of the accident. Oh, how you want to go out there and get rid of them all. From this place, from this world. But you can't. You have no wand, nor hands to hold it. Suddenly, your rage turns to horror as you comprehend the hideous truth – you are nothing more than a figment, scarcely even real. If you continue as you are, you will not survive, at least not this portion of you. And then where will you be? What good are horcruxes if they have no anchor? You have to remedy this situation, and fast. If you don't, you will become nothing. You will mean nothing. And if there is one thing you fear more than death, it is the notion of slipping into nothingness, where not even your memory lives behind you.

You try hard not to panic; panic has never before been in your vocabulary and it won't enter it tonight. You have not prepared for this situation. You had planned for resistance, you had planned for enchantments and reinforcements. You had even planned for inaccurate information from Wormtail. But you had no plan for defeat. The thought that you may not succeed never crossed your mind, for how could you not? There had been no doubt in your mind as to whether the boy's parents would resist, but they could be dealt with quickly and efficiently. Even if properly armed – which they weren't, the fools – you were a thousand times the wizard they were. And the boy, why the boy was a mere infant. Children of his age rarely exhibited magic yet, and even if he was one of the rare few that did, his magic would be nowhere near strong enough to overpower you. No, the boy, whilst the most important part of the evening, would also be the easiest. Or that was how it was supposed to be. But somehow, he had thwarted you, and now here you were, a vapour hiding in the bushes, slowly fading away.

Just as you are starting to get desperate, you hear a scuffling next to you and sense more than see the rat appear beside you. In fact, it is only now that you realise that you can't _see_ at all, and rather have sensed all of the events following your demise in a way totally foreign to you, and yet not at all strange. Again, you get the sense that this rat is merely a rat, and not Wormtail coming to your aid, but even the presence of a mundane rat has its advantages. Almost before the idea materialises, you are inside the rat, controlling its mind and body and soul, seeing and feeling and hearing and smelling what it sees, feels, hears and smells. It is both disturbing and exciting. You are sure no wizard has ever done this before, just more proof that you are superior, even in this less-than-desirable state.

Using first the rat, and then a series of animals and birds you flee the country, knowing it is safer for you to be far away from Britain at this time. By hiding in and around wizarding houses on your journeys, you have discovered that things have swung far in the favour of Dumbledore, and if you are to return to power – which you will, you have no doubts as to that fact – it would be better to do so away from his piercing blue eyes.

For years you hide deep in a forest somewhere on the Continent, you are not entirely sure where. You have to switch animals frustratingly often – it appears that possession lessen their already pitifully short life-spans – but at least you are alive. And hatching plans. If you could just make contact with a human, preferably magical but even a muggle would be useful to start off with, then you could start your return to greatness. Why, if you do return, no doubt you will be even greater and more powerful than before. No one will be able to stop you, not even Harry Potter. Speaking of, the sooner you stage your return the better, you have decided, so you can get rid of the boy before he becomes too powerful to take out swiftly. You don't doubt that you _can_ dispose of him, you'd just rather have it as clean an affair as possible.

Even before you had thought possible, a golden opportunity stumbles your way. A young man, bright but impressionable, has found your part of the forest on his travels. He claims to be searching for a greater knowledge of magic. You promise him knowledge no one else has ever known. How can he resist? At first he is merely your caretaker, a boy with his pet. But you have made it clear, one blunder and he will be kept under much closer watch.

At first things go better than you had thought. The boy is a Professor at Hogwarts, and has revealed that the whole faculty is excited because the one-and-only Harry Potter is to start this coming fall. Not only have you found a human, but you found one perfectly placed to kill the boy. It's almost as if fate wants you to return. Of course, humans are stupid, and it isn't long before he slips and you must take further measures. If you are totally honest with yourself, you were always going to do this. You were tiring of animals, and humans are so much more pleasant to possess.

It's a weird feeling, having a body and yet not being fully in control of it. You could have taken possession of his brain as well – it would have been easier in some ways – but there were two flaws in that plan. For one, you need Quirrel to remain as "normal" as possible so that no one suspects anything. And two, you are getting stronger and stronger, closer to a full body of your own. Which means that full possession of Quirrel would mean some of his features would change to yours, which is totally out of the question. You know Dumbledore will be on to you soon, and you don't want to speed that up. Nor do you want others figuring it out before you can complete your plans.

That year is a strange one. Always hidden, always tied up in that infernal turban. The unicorn's blood is doing you good, and your face is becoming more and more pronounced, much to Quirrel's horror and your delight. You've heard the stories about unicorn blood, you know about the supposed cursed life for all who drink it. But what life could possibly be worse than the one you are living now, forced to live in other creatures to survive?

Once again, you have a plan so perfect you cannot be thwarted. And once again, the boy somehow spoils all of your hard work. It seems almost too good to be true when he turns up in that chamber. You had planned to kill him later, when you had full possession of Quirrel – for that was the ultimate plan – and had regained your immortality, but the irrepressible child had followed you and given you an opportunity almost too good to be true. And yet, something went wrong. Again. Once more you are in a body on fire, forced to retreat before you too were consumed. And suddenly back where you had started, weak and living inside birds and rats to survive. You flee back to your forest, burying yourself even deeper now, and try to think up yet another plan. A plan that could not possibly go wrong.

Two years pass, and you have nothing to show for them. Each time you gain enough strength you try little pieces of magic, trying to find a way to return to human form. But all it does is weaken you back to your original state, and each time you try it drives more and more animals out of your area of the forest. Many more attempts and you will have no life source to fall back on, and what then? You wonder about trying to find another human, but humans are so vulnerable and unpredictable. What you really need is your own body back, then all of the unpredictability and vulnerability would be eliminated. But you are beginning to realise it, although grudgingly, that you will not be able to achieve this on your own. Unfortunately, it is going to be quite difficult to find anyone to help you whilst in this state.

Towards the end of that second year, things start to go your way for once. You see a rat come into your clearing, and yet it is unlike any rat you have ever seen. Suddenly you recognise him. Even without a toe, you had seen this particular rat too many times not to recognise him. Wormtail. Things may turn out in your favour after all.

It takes a long time, but you slowly start to gather strength. Wormtail is able to track down nagini – you still don't know how he managed that one – and with the aid of her milk your recovery is sped up further, until you on longer need to possess animals to survive. The form you are in now is nowhere close to your human body, but it is a start. And you know how to end it, if you can only get close enough to the boy. Once again Wormtail proves useful, although not after almost giving the game away. But it doesn't matter anymore, for you are one step away from returning. One step away from ridding this world of Harry Potter for good and establishing your reign of the magical – and perhaps even muggle – world.

Proceedings at Hogwarts go even better than you had imagined. No one, not even Dumbledore, seems to suspect that Moody is not actually Moody, and Harry Potter is not only a Champion, but seems to be quite a successful one. Perhaps the final part of your plan will go smoother than you thought.

Your recovery is still less than you could wish for though. It appears that without the final potion you cannot progress from this stunted, grotesque form you have now. A form that is uncomfortable to the point of pain, and useless to the point of rage. You wish that you could just waltz into Hogwarts and capture the boy now, but you know that that is neither practical nor wise. And so you must wait. But patience has never been your strong point.

Finally, _finally_, the day comes and you and Wormtail go to the graveyard as the sun begins to set in order to ensure all is in place. You receive word from Crouch that the portkey is in place, and all you can do now is wait for the boy to arrive. But once again he messes with your plans, and you are forced to dispense of an innocent life. A pureblooded life. But it cannot be helped and what is one more life if it means you can return to full form and power once more?

You can see the horror and fear in the boy's eyes and you relish in it. Oh, how you have waited for this moment, when you will finally triumph over him. Time seems to slow as Wormtail adds first the bone of your father and then his own arm. You wait impatiently as he fumbles over taking Potter's blood – does he not realise that the longer he takes the longer it will be until you return? And then, after what feels like a lifetime, you are in that cauldron, bathing in this potion that will make things right, and it is the most glorious feeling you could ever imagine. Suddenly things start fitting into place, and your form elongates and fills out until suddenly you are rising out into the cool night air and slipping into robes and _whole_.

Finally, for the first time in fourteen years you are human again, no longer a weak vapour forced to dwell in the lowliest of creatures. No longer are you dependant on others and forced to hide. Lord Voldemort is back.


End file.
